Monday, February 15, 2010

Lou's Top 40 of the Decade, Part 2

Here's the second in a two-part series listing my top albums of the 2000's. If you don't have these yet, it's about time you get them.

1.) & 2.) Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – The Letting Go (Drag City, 2006) and Lie Down In the Light (Drag City, 2008)While in a way a study in contrasts, these two records represent an apex in a career that has come to match those of the true legends. The former, an album steeped in quiet drama and somber emotion, gave way to one that presents a heart-on-his-sleeve folkie alternating passionately ebullient and desperately painful love songs and trades meticulous chamber-folk for simplistic rootsiness. The most remarkable turnabout, though, may be that of Will Oldham’s transformation from the shadowy figure of the ‘90s concocting his off-kilter and seemingly slapdash—yet nonetheless brilliant—Palace releases for the craftsman of these far more accessible works. What it shows is that Oldham has reinvented himself and honed his art across the years in a way few (only Dylan truly springs to mind) have. The man is the finest artist of each of the past two decades, which is a rare and remarkable accomplishment in any genre, medium or discipline.

This album seems to get less credence from the cognoscenti than almost anything else this band has done, but in my estimation it is by far their most beautiful and accomplished release. Will Sheff’s songs achieved a perfect balance of raw emotion and poetic lyricism here that has sometimes tilted too much one way or the other, and are perfectly colored by expertly crafted instrumentation whose power lies in its ability to swell from unassuming to ebullient all while exuding sheer authenticity.

Across a prolific, erratic, occasionally brilliant decade Ryan Adams has yet to reprise the consistent earthy beauty of his solo debut. “To Be Young” provides a rollicking rockabilly kickoff with a wistful interlude. Emmylou Harris harmonizes on “Oh My Sweet Carolina,” recreating her timeless partnership with Gram Parsons more closely than anything before or since. Adams’ despairing howl and bleating harmonica slice through the boozy lament “Come Pick Me Up.” Along with plenty more stark portraits of human emotion delivered on the broad and uniquely effective canvas the Americana genre.

Bean, best known as a principal of the great alt-country outfit Freakwater, stepped out on her own to make a magnum opus here. She combines the homespun charm and vocal grace of Emmylou Harris with the whimsy of Joni Mitchell throughout this brilliant but overlooked record.

Scott McCaughey’s finest effort as leader of this side-project-cum-supergroup showcases just about everything this man has done better than anyone else in the past three decades: The Beach Boys-inspired bliss of “Got You,” the fuzzy psych-garage of “Ghost Tarts of Stockholm,” the British Invasion ecstasy of “You Don’t Mean It,” the clever country shuffle “One Bar At A Time,” and so much more.

If any band deserved to achieve wealth, fame and adulation during this decade it was probably Arlo. Instead their two brilliant lp’s went virtually unnoticed before they disappeared without a trace. But during their brief existence they were the most powerful power-pop band of all time, channeling the melodies of The Beatles and Big Star, the harmonies of Badfinger, and the power of The Who or even Nirvana into one unbelievable package. The sheer injustice of this band’s anonymity almost makes these remarkable records tough to listen to.

Effortlessly great songwriting mingles with beautiful harmonies and ebullient instrumentation as this band establishes itself as among the best of a second consecutive decade. Tracks like the Byrds-ian “Another Sunny Day” leave no doubt that they rank among the true legends.

Perhaps no band has begun its career with a trio of releases as impressive as Holopaw’s. John Orth’s beautifully strange vocals carry otherworldly melodies that seem to materialize from nowhere, creating hooks where they shouldn’t be, and wildly creative arrangements always sound wholly organic.

Malin’s vocals and hooks always exude raw motion, but this—his second lp—is his only one so far where the backing tracks have the same quality. The melange of Byrds, Stones, E Street Band, and NYC proto-punk is the perfect base for his uniquely expressive voice and aching melodies.

Noted avant-gardist Kiefer creates nothing more ambitious here than a platter of great indie-folk tunes hearkening to some of Young and Dylan’s most revered moments. While subsequent projects like his song cycle on U.S. presidents have their appeal, another more straightforward set is anxiously awaited.

To make a record not only among his best but also breaking new artistic ground 25 years into a brilliant career may be truly unprecedented, but Scott McCaughey did it here. This is the rootsiest record in McCaughey’s canon and the most realized manifestation yet of this genius songsmith’s darker side, while keeping sterling melody the inviolable rule.

This Irish band disappeared after releasing this set of some of the finest ‘60s-inspired pop in recent memory, along with a few rootsier numbers recalling the Jayhawks’ finest work.

19.) & 20.) The Darkness – Permission To Land (Atlantic, 2003) and One Way Ticket To Hell…And Back (Atlantic, 2005)

Yeah, I’m serious… Sure there is a lot about this band that was more than a little jokey, but their admiration and aptitude for the best aspects of arena rock was nothing but serious, and their cleverness is hard to deny. Their novelty had somewhat faded by the time of their second lp, which got far less notice, but it is a far more ambitious set that brings in stronger pop melodies and some arty elements.